Walk slow. I should at no point rush my walk. I would, at no point, want my own fatality to hurry. So, with that said, I should walk with similar honors. Just as things will show up during my walk, things will also go. I should, at this point. wait. Things will show up again. Too much of my clock is blown on fussing about nothing. My blood boils and I am angry again. For what? Nothing, that’s right. If only I could start allowing my doubts to fall out, as dust and air fall out in a still room. My list contains only two things to do. Walk slow and stay happy. I am wasting too much clock on anything that is distant from that. It’s similar to a kid that can’t stay happy at a playground. What good is playing at a playground if that kid can’t stay happy? My walk is that playground, and I am that kid. Allow for bits of joy to show up in our walk. Or, abruptly our walk will turn to black and our thoughts will ask “Why didn’t I walk slowly.”